


Pater Noster

by being_alive



Category: Romeo And Juliet - All Media Types, Romeo And Juliet - Shakespeare, Romeo e Giulietta - Ama e Cambia il Mondo, Romeo et Juliette - Presgurvic
Genre: ...What, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Church Sex, F/M, POV Second Person, Priest Kink, Religious Imagery & Symbolism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-11
Updated: 2019-07-11
Packaged: 2020-06-26 06:57:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,450
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19762930
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/being_alive/pseuds/being_alive
Summary: Today is Sunday, the Lord's day, the holiest day of the week, and you are, in fact, in a church. However, you have no doubt at all when it was proclaimed that all must worship that what you're currently doing isn't really what isn't exactly what all the holy men had in mind.





	Pater Noster

**Author's Note:**

> I'm only vaguely sorry for this.

Today is Sunday, the Lord's day, the holiest day of the week, and you are, in fact, in a church. However, you have no doubt at all when it was proclaimed that all must worship that what you're currently doing isn't really what isn't exactly what all the holy men had in mind. Though perhaps since it is a holy man that you're kneeling before, it is actually still a form of worship, as long as the fact that you're kneeling between his spread thighs with his cock in your hand is completely disregarded.

You don't mind your current situation at all, but at the same time, you can't help but to wonder just how it was you got here in the first place. It has to be a little over a year now since you'd moved to this city, give or take about a week. You'd started attending services shortly after moving here, first because your neighbor had invited you and secondly because wow, the priest turned out to be _hot_. 

That first time you'd done little more than stare at him, but as the Sundays went on you found yourself starting to linger longer and longer after mass finished, asking him little questions here and there and reveling in the way his grey gaze lingered on you the same way that yours lingered on him, until the day came that he'd invited you to come look at something stored away in the basement of the church, and the two of you had ended up making out and more against one of the walls, right next to an old, peeling painting of some saint or another.

"Go on," Father Lawrence says, breaking you out of your reminiscing.

"What's the rush, Father?" You ask, tightening your grip on his cock ever-so-slightly as you begin to stroke him, slowly and languidly. His breath hitches in his throat, though you're not sure if the cause is from your hand on his cock or from the what you've said. You like calling him Father, and you know he likes it too, even if he'll never admit it.

And besides, it's not nearly as awkward as calling him _daddy_ would be.

"I'd rather not have anyone walk in on us by accident," he explains, looking down at you through half-lidded eyes. He's still fairly presentable, hair still neat, his shirt untucked from his trousers but still buttoned with its white collar still in place, and his pants undone and pulled just low enough to show the one part of him that's not presentable, with that being his cock, still hard and thick even if it's not overly long and with your hand wrapped around it.

"I thought you locked the doors," you reply, still lazily stroking him. Father Lawrence grits his teeth, his hips twitching up into your grasp as he bites out, "I thought you knew better than to underestimate the curiosity of little old women."

"Fair enough," you reply, simply, before leaning down and taking the head of his cock in your mouth. He does have a point, you concede to yourself as you trail your tongue around the broad head of his cock, because this time you and he aren't in the basement, and are instead in the main room of the church, with him sitting on the pew in the very front and you kneeling in front of him. One of his hands comes down to rest on your head, long fingers tangling in your hair as you pull your own hand away from him in order to take him deeper into your mouth. You're able to take his cock nearly all the way into your mouth, and both pride and a certain sort of heat grow within you at the sounds falling from his lips. His grip on your hair tightens ever so slightly as he guides you up and down his cock, so gently that you don't even mind.

"Stop," he says, suddenly, and you pull off of him and look up at him in confusion, because this you do mind, especially because you were just starting to really get into the rhythm of sucking his cock. You clear your throat and then ask, "What's wrong?"

His cheeks are flushed, and his breathing is slightly labored, so you know it's not that you were doing a bad job. He looks away from you briefly, towards somewhere behind you, and then back as he explains, "I'd prefer to actually have you now instead of...reaching completion in your mouth."

"Oh?" You ask, standing. "And where will you have me, Father?"

"I want you over the altar," Father Lawrence tells you, his cheeks flushing even more, contrasting sharply and pleasantly with his dark hair and his grey eyes.

"Yes, Father," you say, breathily, and hasten to comply, because you definitely don't mind this, even if he's never fucked you over the altar before. To tell the truth, just you sucking him in the pews was a big step, as you and he have only ever been in the basement and occasionally each other's houses. You bend over the altar, watching him as he stands up and walks towards you, the perfect picture of a priest, so long as his cock, still bared and still hard and flushed at the tip, is ignored.

He comes to stand behind you and then hikes the skirt of your finest Sunday dress up and pulls down your less than modest underwear, so that you're exposed to the only slightly stale air of the church. He doesn't immediately do anything else, so you wait for a moment before all but begging, "Please, Father."

"Patience is a virtue," he chides, one of his hands coming to rest on the back of your thigh before sliding upwards, past the edge of your stocking and then inwards, until the very tips of his fingers are brushing against your sex.

"I wasn't aware either of us were here to be virtuous, Father," you retort, and hear him chuckle behind you.

"No, we're not," he concedes, sliding first one finger and then another into your sex, until they're in as far as they'll go. He fucks you with them, his long, sinful fingers sliding in and out of you, occasionally brushing up against a spot that makes your hips twitch back against him as small, breathy moans fall from your lips.

"Please, Father," you manage to repeat after some time of just him fucking you with his fingers, no more and no less.

"Fine, then," Father Lawrence says, withdrawing his fingers from you. You moan again, half relief and half disappointment. You can hear the sound of him wiping his fingers off on his trousers and then finally, you can feel the head of his cock brushing against the opening of your dripping sex. Slowly, almost too slowly, he pushes all the way into you, until his cock is buried to the hilt within you. You gasp at the feeling, turning your head to rest against the sheet covering the altar, and behind you, you can hear him groan, low in his throat. 

He stays still inside you for a moment, but then he starts to move, his thrusts starting off slowly and shallowly and steadily increasing in pace and depth until he's finally fucking you properly. He reaches around your hip, his fingers finding your clit and rubbing circles around it, all as a chant of _Father, Father, Father_ falls from your lips. His free hand comes to rest on your hip, guiding you back against him with every thrust forward of his hips.

Heat and pressure grow low within you until suddenly and unexpectedly, you're coming hard enough that you're nearly seeing stars, and you wonder then if this is what a true religious awakening feels like, even if the great event that caused it was a priest's cock inside of you. Father Lawrence continues fucking you through your orgasm, even as his thrusts grow increasingly sloppy, until he too reaches his peak, his loudest groan yet tearing its way from him as his cock twitches and pulses inside of you. He waits until he's completely finished to pull out of you, which is good, you think, because you'd rather have him come inside of you than risk having your very nice Sunday dress become stained in the most unsightly of ways.

After both you and he have rearranged yourselves and made your way back to your original pew on unsteady legs, except to sit on it together this time, you turn to him with a teasing grin as you say, "Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned."


End file.
